Imagine the most extraordinary location for a vineyard that you can. Got an image in mind? Well, we think Cantine dell’Averno, a four-hectare vineyard in Pozzuoli, has it beat: Not only are its vines growing inside the caldera of a volcano that is theoretically still active, but they also surround the ruins of a Greek temple. We are on the shores of Lake Avernus, a volcanic lake that formed thousands of years ago and is part of the wider Campanian volcanic arc, which includes the Phlegraean Fields. It’s a place shrouded in an aura of mystery – legends and tales about this somewhat eerie body of water have been passed down since antiquity.

The typical Neapolitan trattoria is a place where you go to eat like you would at home: the cook buys everything fresh in the morning, just like at home, and then spends the rest of the day in the kitchen, which he rules like a maestro. For the quintessential trattoria experience, we head to Fuorigrotta, a working-class district on the west side of Naples. There, close to the border with the seaside suburb of Bagnoli and not far from the Cavalleggeri Aosta metro stop, stands Cucina da Vittorio, a small trattoria with a few tables and a steady rotation of regular customers.

One of the problems for travelers with celiac disease is that they often can’t taste local gastronomic specialties. This is particularly true in Naples, a city famed for its pizza and pastries, such as the mythical babà; pastiera, the queen of Neapolitan sweets; and the ancient sfogliatella. Until about 20 years ago, it was very difficult for someone with celiac disease to eat in Naples; the number of restaurants equipped for gluten-free cooking could be counted on one hand, and they often had to resort to processed food products sold in pharmacies.

The typical Neapolitan breakfast is fast, often consumed standing at the espresso bar. A croissant and a quick coffee – and, boom, the day begins. Many people in the English-speaking world, however, will use coffee bars and cafès as a place to relax or work. They bring computers, connect to the Wi-Fi and, ordering just one coffee, may even sit for hours. Three years ago, a group of entrepreneurs decided it was time Naples had a bar where people could indulge in a lazy morning breakfast, a slow midday meal or a long afternoon tea – a place where the chairs are comfortable, the tables are an inviting wood and you are encouraged to stay and make your phone calls, write your papers and chat with friends.

The Neapolitan stairs are ancient urban routes that connect the upper city (the Vomero district) to the lower city (the historic center). The most famous of these stairs is the Pedamentina di San Martino, a staircase of 414 steps dating back to the 14th century, which starts from the old center and reaches the Castel Sant’Elmo, on the Vomero hill. Along the way there are beautiful panoramic views of Naples. One reason to walk these Neapolitan stairs (besides the views) is to look for Totò Eduardo E Pasta E Fagioli, an old tavern with an amazing terrace overlooking historic Naples. The name is dedicated to two great masters of Neapolitan theater and cinema: Totò (Antonio de Curtis) and Eduardo de Filippo.

The rustic Neapolitan tarallo, made of 'nzogna (lard), pepper and toasted almonds, is a true delicacy. It can be considered the first popular snack in Naples, a bite that combines the punch of black pepper with the sweetness of almonds, the whole united by lard. It’s a dangerous combination for the waistline, that’s for sure. Taralli are offered to celebrate a new home, shared with friends during soccer matches, enjoyed with one’s significant other on the rocky shore, given to guests at parties, taken aboard boats (it’s the very height of yuppiness to eat them accompanied by iced spumante while out at sea). Until a few years ago, taralli were sold by tarallers, roving vendors who carried a basket full of taralli on their heads.

If a gastronomia or delicatessen prepares good food, it can survive for decades. But if a gastronomia also promotes a social cause, there is a risk that clients will visit once to silence their consciences, and not return. At Sfizzicariello, a “social gastronomia,” the food is at once excellent, and the cause worthy. A group of 10 people with mental health disorders run the deli, an example of commitment but, above all, quality dishes that will keep people coming back. Here is one of the best eggplant Parmigiane in Naples, an exceptional endive pizza, and a number of unparalleled meatballs. Come for a quick snack, a long lunch break sitting at one of the few tables scattered about or to order take away. The environment is modern in design, with eight seats inside and four out.

We are in the Vasto district, a difficult to navigate maze of narrow streets that criss and cross, a market area squashed between Naples’ central station and Centro Direzionale, the business district. The district’s Via Nazionale, a street adjacent to the station, is a shrine to local gastronomic treasures, and we consider it a true paradise for lovers of good food. It’s a jewelry box of flavors, ideas, and unique and original products. The daily street market on Via Ferrara, another local artery, is one of the city’s most colorful and fascinating – mentioned several times in renowned author Elena Ferrante’s “My Brilliant Rriend.” It was here, in 2016, that Dario Troise brought to life a project 15 years, if not centuries, in the making: a panini bar that serves only cuzzetiello (which roughly translates to bread bowl sandwiches).

When the other butcher shops in Naples are closing for lunch and at the end of the day, activity at D'Ausilio Macelleria is just picking up. The cooktops are lit, sandwiches are being made and this Italian butcher shop becomes a quality burgeria. “I come from Vomero (the hill district) to buy Raffaele’s hamburgers. My children love them,” says customer Rosaria Esposito at 8 p.m., when the macelleria is an hour into its transformation as a burgeria. But this is no trendy burger bar; the menu is steeped in local heritage. Rosaria leaves the burgers to the kids, choosing for herself the delicious home-style dishes created at D’Ausilio. Parmigiana alla Genovese stands out among those on display. Here are two sacred words of Neapolitan cuisine – Parmigiana and Genovese, a simple yet miraculous sauce made of meat (veal, beef or pork) and a heap of onions (red or white) – cornerstones in the history of local cooking.

At any time of day you’ll see crowds of people at the ancient, welcoming restaurant. At lunchtime, many regulars come daily not for the pizza, but for Maria’s home cooked dishes. “Here we serve traditional Neapolitan dishes,” says the 74-year-old. “Pasta and potatoes, pasta and beans, pasta sorrentine style or bolognese. The menu changes every day, and the bread is made every morning, here, directly in the pizza oven … with my hands.” There’s something about the pizzeria that transmits a sense of history, particularly its inner room, the walls of which are covered in declarations of love for the restaurant and drawings made on paper napkins by loyal customers over the decades. “It is as if customers wanted to leave something of themselves,” Attilio tells us proudly. “They wanted to return some of the goodness they just tasted with something that would last.”

Naples is a city strewn with street vendors. Bread, thin pizzas meant to be eaten folded, fried pizzas, octopus broth, roasted artichokes, cones full of fried goodies, donuts, panzerotti and rice balls – there’s little you can’t find one of Naples’ vendors selling. Together, these numerous street sellers and their small stands play an important economic and cultural role in the city. In the midst of all these vendors there’s one that somehow manages to stand out. Some know him simply as Carmine. Others call him Carmine the Wizard because of his enchanting roasted chestnuts, which warm the hands and the stomachs of Neapolitans in winter. Whatever you call him, he’s an icon of Naples street food.

Sold for one or two euros, the spritz, which at its most basic is a combination of bittersweet liqueur, sparkling wine and seltzer, has been dubbed “the champagne of the poor” – no wonder it has been the king of cocktails in Naples for at least a decade. Aperitif time – often starring a cool spritz – is the most relaxing, and thus most awaited, moment of the day. And Neapolitans have made an art of this pre-meal ritual. In a city that is known (although sometimes unjustly) throughout Italy as the city of the idle, the aperitif has come to symbolize living well, in the company of friends.

Some people might tell you that the patron saint of Naples is San Gennaro, a 3rd-century bishop who died as a martyr. But that’s not actually true. The patron saint of Naples is, in fact, Diego Maradona, the Argentinian-born soccer player who, in 1987, propelled Napoli to win the Serie A Championship (Italy’s top football league) – it was the first team ever from the impoverished Italian south to do so. To this day, Maradona’s portrait is everywhere in the city. Just like any good patron saint, his picture watches over shopkeepers, restaurant owners and families in their living room. So when someone on the street called Francesco Sepe the “Maradona of wine,” you can imagine how proud he felt.

Rua Catalana is a very ancient road, a corner of Naples where time seems to stand still. Located next to the financial district and now squeezed by 19th-century buildings, it is curiously the only road in the city that, instead of the Italian “Via,” uses “Rua,” a distortion of the French “Rue.” In the mid-14th century, Queen Joanna I of Naples welcomed merchants from all over Europe to the city as part of her efforts to promote trade. She donated this area to the Catalans, and tinsmiths and junk dealers settled here. Even though 700 years have passed, a smattering of small copper and tin artisans continue to practice their craft on this street, now making artistic copper and tin objects for the increasing number of tourists roaming the city.

It almost never snows in Naples. Yet in the last decade, the city has seen an invasion of snowflakes. We’re not talking about an atmospheric phenomenon – rather, it is Pasticerria Poppella’s il fiocco di neve (“the snowflake”), a true gastronomic prodigy that has quickly become a “new classic” of Neapolitan pastry, as evidenced by the long lines at the bakery every day of the week. Ciro Poppella is quite a character: not only an important figure in the Sanità neighborhood, where Poppella is located, he’s also an icon of Naples. The inventor of the snowflake, Ciro is a living example of how there are no limits to what you can achieve when you believe in a project.